In This Issue

A media tsunami took place last week when 34-year-old, 7-foot tall, 250 pound, NBA free agent Jason Collins disclosed to the world that he is gay, becoming the first active American male professional athlete on a major team sport to do so. I don't know if Jason Collins' decision to live an "open and authentic" life will be the global game-changer that many in the media would have us believe. But I do know a little something about how liberating and life affirming deciding to live your life openly can be.

I’m a 57 year old openly gay Black man. I remember the process of coming out to my family and friends 33 years ago. I remember how important it was for me. But actually more importantly, I remember how important it was for them. Twenty six years ago I was diagnosed with HIV. Today, for me and hundreds of thousands of Black Americans, disclosing our HIV status is the new “coming out.”  I remember coming out to my family and friends about my HIV status as well. Sharing that information was important for me as well as for them.

The great former L.A. Lakers head coach Phil Jackson once said that he had never met a gay player in the NBA. The always outspoken Charles Barkley, on the other hand, says that he has played with many gay basketball players over the years.  Whether Jason Collins is the only gay player currently in the NBA or merely the first one to come out of the closet, his decision was courageous and, as Martina Navratilova put it, will save lives -- if nobody's life but his own.

I'm convinced that I'm alive today because I kept neither my sexual orientation nor my HIV status a secret. I know that I would not have been afforded the life, opportunities and positive experiences I've had if I had not chosen to come out about my HIV status.

Human beings are social creatures. We need the love and support of family and friends. We often keep secrets about important aspects of our lives -- sexual orientation and HIV status, among them -- in an effort to protect that love and support. But our families and friends cannot love us and they certainly cannot support us, if they don't know us.

As the late Black lesbian poet Audre Lorde said, “When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.”

Every time a high-profile person or someone in our community or family shares something about themselves that is different, the world is a better and safer place. It helps all of us accept our own "otherness" -- and there is something about each of us that is "other," that is different. It also makes room for those who are hiding to gain access to something they possibly need. In the case of HIV, it's access to the treatment and care we desperately require to survive, as well as information and support about how we can prevent transmitting our virus to other people.

I don’t know if Jason Collins’ coming out was as courageous as the media would have us believe. He’s 7 feet tall and 250 pounds after all. “When I dare to be powerful -- to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid,” Audre Lorde also said. Clearly Jason’s actions will serve others.  I, for one, am glad that he can be less afraid.

Yours in the struggle,

Phill